I fucking missed meeting Ivy. (Tiara tried to help me find her but alas, she was gone!)
I fucked up by not meeting Precipitate.
I really fucked up by missing the e-playa greeters shift
I seriously fucked up by missing the e-playa meet and greet.
I fucked up by not printing out Harriet's list before leaving, and by not meeting Harriet.

And my cardinal fucking sin of all? I didn't find a fucking way to bring even one more bottle of Playa Pale Ale back with me. I need my fucking sorry ass kicked all the way back to Missouri for passing up such a wonderful work of art...the stuff is so fucking good that I'm forever corrupted...everything else is just swill.

I finally finished the fucking laundry. All the pillows, the moving blankets, the stuff used to cover other stuff, anything that went to the playa. I finally finished the fucking laundry. I'm free! I'm finally fucking free!

I finally unpacked the fucking trailer and found fucking chocolate chip cookies all over the fucking place. I also found a fucking broken beer bottle...guess it's better it broke in the fucking trailer and not on the wonderful playa.

Why can't good beer come in fucking cans and not just bottles?

And apparently on my attempt to fucking climb over 12,000 ft Independence Pass, I almost broke the back wall out of my trailer. The one fucking area you don't reinforce is the first fucking thing to break.

And how on earth am I ever going to get rid of that wonderful fucking playa dust?

Playa dust is hard on the fucking knees when your fucking on the playa with someone cute that you just met. Someone hands you a fucking copy of how to get laid at BM and not even 20 fucking minutes later your fucking away....not that I'm fucking complaining...but playa dust scraped knees don't heal that fucking fast.

Speaking of fucking untouchable...PJ has like 197 posts. How am I ever going to catch him....or even Lydia for that matter. I'm only ranked a measly 21 on total posts. Sniff sniff.

Seriously, someone put that fucking book in my hands and I didn't even get past the fucking cover when she took me by the hand and off into fucking deep playa we went. And we didn't need the fucking blanket for a long time either. I'm sure DPW got a fucking awesome show as we were not far from people driving in either...it's like welcome to fucking BRC....

I'm normally shy and quiet. What the fuck happened to me to do this I'll never know.

So, how the fuck does one get fucking playa dust out of the fucking turbo bearings in their fucking engine? I thought this fucking piece of Swedish shit was supposed to have a fucking seal or something.